Monday Morning After
by laurensays
Summary: Oneshot. After Christmas with the Weasleys and a bit too much firewhisky, Tonks can't quite remember where she is. Awkwardness ensues.


_Authors Note: Hello hello :) I finally decided, in honor of my birthday (last week... I'm a bit behind), to sit down and attempt to post something. Luckily, I figured it out. I've been sitting on this for quite a while and I really hope you enjoy it... I had a lot of fun writing it._

_**Disclaimer:**** Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and Company. The plot is all mine. ** _

_**Monday Morning After**_

Monday morning dawned cold, clear, and bright. Sunlight poured through barely-curtained windows, illuminating a room that appeared to belong to a teenage boy. Quidditch posters hung on the bright blue walls; socks and t-shirts littered the floor, and magazines boasting the worlds best racing brooms on their covers were tossed onto the old desk. It was on these magazines that one Nymphadora Tonks gazed as she sat up in bed, both shivering and feeling as if she had been run into the ground several times by the infamous Knight Bus.

What Nymphadora Tonks could not quite figure out was why she was here. Her eyes flicked up to the walls, taking in a calendar featuring the Quidditch teams of Britain and Ireland, currently turned to December. Last time she had checked, her interests did include Quidditch; she, however, was not nearly obsessed enough to paper he walls will posters supporting the Chudley Cannons. Nor, unfortunately, could she recall a time where she had ever supported the Cannons, always having been more of a Puddlemere United gal herself.

Upon further inspection of the room, there was the clutter issue to deal with. She was categorically certain that she was a female, and as a female, quite confident that she owned nearly no men's underwear. So then why, she wondered, was there suddenly a carpet of very manly looking undergarments littering her floor? Tonks was quite sure that the floor had been relatively clean the night before; as a person prone to tripping, this was especially important.

After pondering this for a moment and scratching her chin, Tonks came to the conclusion that the family house elf had, quite obviously, gone senile.

_ Yes,_ she thought, _that was it. Senile. _

She looked around at her surroundings once more, casually glancing down at the bed. Beside her lay a redheaded man who she was absolutely certain did not belong in her room. The man sighed in his sleep and clutched his pillow tighter, and Tonks did the most logical thing for a person who had been through nearly a year and a half of Auror training to do.

She screamed.  
Loudly.  
Painfully.  
_ Loudly_.

She then rubbed her eyes furiously, convinced that this was some sort of dream.

Charlie Weasley was in her bed.

She had hoped that her parents would burst through the doors, wands drawn, demanding to know what was wrong, but, unfortunately for Tonks, all she had managed to achieve was waking the red-head up.

"Bloody hell, Tonks," he groaned as he rolled over. "You could wake the dead across the country with a yell like that."

Her jaw dropped, and suddenly things began to come back to her, almost as if the past twenty-four hours were flashing before her eyes.

_Floo powder… tripped… broke the vase in the sitting room… Whoops,_ she thought. _Christmas dinner – really excellent Christmas dinner… firewhisky – lots of firewhisky… perhaps more firewhisky than had been necessary. Stumbling up the stairs… nearly cracked skull thanks to that pesky doorframe…_

And as everything clicked together, Tonks did the most logical thing for a person who had been through nearly a year and a half of Auror training to do.

She screamed.  
Loudly and painfully.

"Bloody hell, _Tonks_, it's too early for that! At least wait till later, if you must."

It was at that point she looked down and realized her shoulders were bare. Her stomach was bare. Her legs were bare. The man next to her was also very bare. In fact, she would go so far as to claim that they were both utterly and completely naked. She frowned, wondering why she had not noticed this of all things first. Her head, she reasoned mere moments later, had been pounding far too painfully to notice such trivial things. She nodded to herself, glad to escape a perfectly good opportunity to chastise herself for her lack of attention to detail.

Charlie Weasley was in her bed, wearing nothing but what her mother would have referred to, had she been there, as his birthday suit.

It was at this point that her very detailed and highly sensitized Auror training kicked in and Tonks was able to deduce that the reason her room looked like that of a teenage boy's room was because it, in fact, belonged to a teenage boy.

A very _overgrown_ teenage boy.

Her head pounded extra-fiercely with this new development, almost as if it was punishing her for being so very slow on the uptake. She sighed, wondering _exactly_ how much firewhisky she had consumed the night before, and proceeded to poke his shoulder, as it was quite apparent that he had fallen asleep again.

"Charlie," she whispered, "Chaaaarlieeee! Wake up!"

He snored loudly in response.

Shrugging, and deciding that she had been through enough trauma on that particular morning to last her through several days of training, and despite her still pounding head, Tonks drew her arm back dramatically and aimed a well-placed punch into his shoulder.

He jumped, swearing loudly, and glared at her. "All right, I'm up."

"I hope you don't use that mouth to kiss your mother."

"I'll have you know that I do." He rubbed his shoulder gingerly. "Where'd you learn to punch like that?"

"Moody," she said, shrugging for what felt like the millionth time that morning. "You know. Auror?" She pointed to herself for emphasis, and he chuckled as he pulled himself into a sitting position beside her.

"So."

"So…" Her voice trailed off into nothingness. "Charlie?"

"Hmm?"

"What happened last night?"

He paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Well, in the simplest way I can put it, I believe both you and I drank far too much firewhisky." At that, a blush began to creep up his neck. "You asked me to do things to you that I could not believe possibly came from your innocent mind, and well… I did them." By this time, the blush had spread to his cheeks and the tops of his ears, giving the Tonks the impression that his face was on fire. "And here we are."

"We… what?"

"Please, don't make me repeat it. You heard what I said… I'm not making it up."

"I remember nothing after I nearly cracked my skull open on your doorframe. Although, now that I think about it, I've got a memory of some very well-executed—"

Charlie held up his hand. "Don't."

"So that was all you, huh?"

His blush subsided a little. "All me,"

"Hmm."

"Yeah."

"Where'd you _learn_ that?"

He burst out laughing. "Well… you know… you just kind of… pick it up."

"That was a rather lame explanation."

"It's true! You weren't the first, you know." She nodded slowly, noticing that the note of pride that had been in his voice seconds before had nearly disappeared.

"But I was the best."

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Both."

They both laughed. Tonks had relaxed considerably; it obvious by this point that he was not embarrassed to be found in this incredibly compromising situation with her. In fact, she seemed to find her confidence growing by the second.

"Well," she said, dragging her fingers carelessly across his cheek, "you were, by far, the _best_—"

Charlie gulped audibly. Looking down, she smirked at the bulge that had appeared under the bed sheets, a new development that he was trying desperately to hide.

"It's not working," she said, patting him gently on the head.

He was blushing again. She looked away until he composed himself.

"Merlin, I feel like I'm sixteen again."

"I suppose I have that effect on people."

"_You have _no_ idea_," he thought.

Tonks, who had been staring out the window at the sky, turned her head and cocked her eyebrow questioningly.

"I said that out loud, didn't I."

"Yes," she replied. "You did."

He groaned. "There I go with the talking and the blabbing and the thoughts popping out and now you're going to think I'm some kind of perverted creep, I am your best friend after all and then the—"

Tonks rolled her eyes, placing her hand securely over his mouth.

"You said that out loud, but if you had _any _idea what _you_ do to _me_…"

His eyes widened considerably, and he pointed to himself, and then to her, as if he was not sure that he had gotten the message clearly. She nodded, smirking again and removing her hand.

"Better be careful there, Charlie boy. You don't want to go hurting yourself."

Charlie scowled, opening his mouth as if to retort but thought better. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling, his face pulled as it was when he was thinking intensely.

"So."

"So…" Tonks' voice trailed off into nothingness.

"Where exactly do we go from here?"

"I've no idea. Down to breakfast is probably a good idea."

Charlie frowned. "You know what I meant."

"You didn't let me finish! Always jumping to conclusions… like the time you fought Douglas Kennedy in sixth year. Had you just listened to me, you would have known that he was in fact, _not_ my boyfriend, but my potions partner. You could have saved yourself months of—"

It was Charlie's turn to clamp his hand firmly over her mouth.

"Nymphadora," he said; a warning edge had crept into his voice.

"_Pfm't_ col phe—" He removed his hand. "Nymphadora."

"Don't remind me of sixth year, and then we're even."

"Fine," she huffed. "Hmph."

"You're so cute when you're angry."

"Charlie Weasley, don't you try to butter me up."

"I was not."

"Were."

He leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder. She squirmed slightly under his touch and, grinning, he moved closer to her neck and did it again.

"Well if you keep doing that… Where do we go from here, you asked?"

"Mmmhm,"

"Down to breakfast," she squeaked, "and then, when your family goes to visit your Auntie Muriel," she exhaled, trying to control her voice, "as they always do day after Christmas…"

"Yes?"

"We could come up her and… you know…"

"No," he said, briefly detatching his lips from the base of her neck "I don't know."

She shot him a pleading look. He shrugged, and she finally regained control of her voice. "I will ask you to do things to me that you will not be able to believe came from this innocent mind."

He looked at her pointedly.

"And you will do them."

For the _n_th time that morning, Charlie Weasley shrugged. He looked at Tonks, kissed her quickly on the cheeks, and sat back against the headboard.

"Sounds like a plan to me."


End file.
